She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. Wood. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down 458 XXXI. "It is useless to deny it," replied Jack.
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